The grass blows over my feet,

Swaying to and frow,

Making a swishing sound,

In the morning breeze.

There are many noises,

It can be silent,

Or as loud as can be

Which will it be?

Some like the quiet,

Were they can be alone,

With no one to bother them,

Were they can rest and relax.

Others like the loudness,

In it they can be invisible,

Or outgoing and noticed,

Whichever they want it to be.

Which one should I want,

What about you,

I believe in the silence,

And I hope you do too…